Prologue

Prologue

Gage,

This is me breaking up with you. Enclosed is the ring that you made me pick out—alone. The same ring-choosing at Tiffany’s you were an hour and ten-minutes late for.

Yes, that’s right, Gage, my dear uncaring asshat fiancé. I’ve left you, and this godforsaken beach shithole.

We’ve reached the natural progression of all our fights, all your pointed silences, all your lame excuses. By now, it has to be fifty going on a hundred times you’ve sworn to change, sworn you’re trying to open up to me. But I think we both know the indifferent mask you wear has become so ingrained it’s a part of you now.

Not to mention your zero consideration for me. You should know what I’m going to say here—because in the last two years, how many millions of occasions have I asked you to put your dirty socks in the hamper? But you haven’t even been able to do that simple little thing. Asshole.

And yes, what I found this morning–determined the end of this shitshow of a relationship. The sock that broke the loveless relationship’s back. Fitting, in a sad way. Dirty weed-green socks flung in actual sneezing distance of the wicker hamper–the very one I bought with an easy-open lid just for you. I stared at those disgusting dirty socks and decided that I didn’t want to do this anymore. Not with you.

Because let’s face it, this isn’t just about socks. This is about respect. The respect you do not have for me, or my feelings in any way, shape, or form. But that’s understandable considering your cold heart barely beats even on a good day. So, I’ve decided it’s much better to do this now instead of later.

Gage Danielson, I will not go through with a farce of a marriage like the one you proposed only from a dull sense of duty. Paul and Isa’s wedding breaking down at the altar last month was like a last-minute-rescue-mission-wake-up call for me. I’ve realized I don’t have to do this withyou anymore. I don’t have to marry a man who won’t ever love me the way I deserve to be loved. You aren’t husband material any more than your neurotic friend Paul is.

Unlike you, work isn’t my life. My life is my life, and I intend to keep it that way. And I intend to spend it with a man who loves me.

Get ready for this next part.

You know your friend Parker? Well, you successfully managed to ignore me so much that I ended up making him my friend too. The kind of friend you have naked sleepovers with.

I would say I’m sorry and wish you the best, but let’s not lie to each other.

Not every man has what’s necessary to be husband material. And since you’re definitely not one of them, I guess you’d better get used to being alone...forever.

-Cassidy